


Just a Little Softness

by cathydeff



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: All the soft feelings DC won’t give us, Domestic Fluff, First Dates, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathydeff/pseuds/cathydeff
Summary: Jon has had a hard week, and so has Damian.A night in sounds just the ticket.Featuring Damian in an apron, a vegetable lasagne, and feelings out in the open.





	Just a Little Softness

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, my first piece of real fanfiction in 10 years, and it’s these two goobers.
> 
> But they make me feel things and yes, I do think they will surpass their fathers.
> 
> Jon is 21 and Damian is 24 here.

Damian put his pen down with a sigh, his fingers needing the short reprieve after signing and correcting so many documents. There were of course, digital ways of getting the job done, but Wayne Enterprises still insisted on pen and paper for more sensitive records. He glanced at the clock on his computer monitor: four o’clock, still a tad too early to go home but he knew he could always take his work home if he wished.

It was always the plan for him to work at his father’s company, maybe head it himself someday but he was quite content at where he was, heading the Marketing & Design department. It was a job that he secretly relished as it allowed him to flex his more artistic side. Vigilante justice mongering aside, it gave him a sense of purpose—something ordinary he could call his. Now he understood the fervour Drake put in when he was starting at WE himself. 

By 4:15, he was ready to call it a day when he heard a soft knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called, thinking it was his secretary Amy with some last minute papers. To his surprise, it was Jon who came in to his office, waving at him tiredly before collapsing on the chair in front of his desk. Damian noted the weariness of his friend and sympathised. 

“Long day?” Damian asked. 

“More like long week,” said Jon lowly. “Hi, by the way. How was your day?”

Damian shrugged and began to shove things to his satchel and shut down his computer. “Not as bad as yours is, I suppose, but still quite busy.” 

“You ready to go?”

“Yes, I was about to leave. You have any plans for tonight?”

Jon stood up from the chair and ran a hand through his hair. “I was hoping we could have a quiet night in tonight. Maybe a bad movie and Chinese?” He looked guilty as he said it, as if he thought that Damian would give him censure about skipping patrol for the evening. 

Damian understood though. He would have given him a hard time for it before, but he knew better. Learned that it was okay to have a night off once in a while to let his body heal, but at this moment, he knew that Jon was a different kind of tired. He should be working harder as he took on the mantle of Blackwing; however this time, maybe Drake can handle the patrol. So he made a decision.

“Why not?” Damian said, grabbing Jon by the arm out the door. “I think after the week we’ve had, we could use a break.”

Jon laughed delightedly. “Who are you and what have you done to Damian?”

Damian just raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t answer. He instead turned to Amy as they passed by her desk.

“I’m taking the weekend off, Amy,” he said imperiously. “Please do not bother me unless it’s an emergency. Enjoy your weekend and see you on Monday.”

“Will do, boss,” Amy replied smartly. “See you on Monday. Bye, Jon.”

“Bye, Amy, give Carlos my warmest meows.”

“Will do.”

“So what are the plans for the night?” asked Jon, rocking on his heels while Damian pressed the button for the basement garage. 

Damian shot off a quick text to Drake before answering, “Dinner at my place and movies, as you said.” 

Jon beamed at his friend, “Awesome.”

“But I want Italian,” Damian said, stepping out of the elevator as soon as the doors dinged open and made a beeline for his car.

“Even better,” said Jon. He really liked Damian’s car. It was a bottle-green vintage Mustang with the softest leather seats. He would have been more jealous but he was the car’s most frequent passenger and he was the only one Damian would trust behind the wheel. He knew that Damian considered it his baby, his first purchase after taking on his first job at WE as a graphics designer (he insisted on working his way to the top, and earned his subordinates’ grudging respect that way). 

The drive to the apartment was quiet, save for the radio piping out a classical station Damian favoured when driving. Jon settled into his seat, comfortable in the silence.

Damian smoothly parked into his allocated space and they made their way to the elevator in Damian’s building. He scanned his keycard in and they stepped inside. Damian jabbed the button for the topmost floor.

Coming home to his apartment always gave Damian a sense of peace though he can admit it to himself that he hasn’t truly felt that he had settled here. He knew it was his, and that’s the way he liked it, but he felt that it was missing something.

Maybe he needed more potted plants. 

Damian and Jon dropped their bags by the door and swapped their shoes for slippers. Jon has been such a frequent visitor that he merited his own set of slippers—Batman ones that he bought himself after gifting Damian a set of Superman ones on his first Christmas in his flat. 

Jon loved Damian’s apartment. Despite only having one bedroom, it was spacious, clearly meant for a bachelor. He loved the floor to ceiling windows that granted stunning views across Gotham, the open space that encompassed the living room, kitchen and dining room. The door to the bedroom was off one side and the bathroom beside it. It was a simple layout but it worked. 

Jon immediately sank into the couch, luxuriating in the feeling of the cool leather against his heated skin. The days had been too warm recently, and Damian’s apartment had amazing climate controls. Perks of having a billionaire for a father. Jon would be more jealous if he didn’t also benefited from his friend’s amazing generosity and was given a key to come and go as he pleased. Damian said it was because he was tired of having to reset his alarms every time Jon decided to drop in through the windows. 

Damian looked at Jon as the other man lolled on the couch, couldn’t help but notice at how just being in his apartment immediately relaxed Jon—at how he seemed to belong in the space. Damian would hardly admit it to himself but having Jon there made him feel things he shouldn’t consider towards a long-time friend. 

Damian made his way to the bathroom instead before he could contemplate on the notion further, turning on the hot water tap and pouring in a capful of his favourite bath oil. The room took on the scent of sandalwood and lavender and he breathed it in deeply. He checked that he had fresh towels on the rack and that a clean bathrobe hung behind the door. He then went to his bedroom to fetch a set of clothes that Jon had left there the last time he stayed. 

It was a curious feeling though, the rightness of how it was when he saw Jon’s clothes mixed along with his own as he did the laundry one evening. How shockingly domestic it was that Jon’s threadbare sleeping set looked like it belonged amongst Damian’s more expensive items. Damian had shoved down thoughts viciously, damning his pining heart, and had crammed Jon’s clothes unceremoniously on the bottom drawer of his dresser with the intent of giving them back to him once he had the chance.

Damian sighed for the umpteenth time that day. He was so far gone on his friend that it was laughable. He ought to distance himself more but today...today Jon needed him. He could ignore the want that thrummed in his veins for another night, couldn’t he? Could deny how his fingers twitched to brush back that messy hair away from clear eyes that spoke of the bluest skies and warmest days.

Damian saw that Jon was practically asleep on the couch and was reminded that it was Jon’s last year of college. He was working hard on his final project, which had included input from Damian, who had designed the video game characters and most of the background and scenery. Jon was determined to design video games as a career after he graduated and had interned for a video game company that WE silently acquired under Damian’s auspices. 

He tapped his fingers against Jon’s forehead, waking the other man up. Jon stared at him with heavy lidded eyes that did nothing to calm down the spike of affection Damian felt. 

“I ran a bath for you,” said Damian, not meeting his eyes. He turned to the kitchen and started pulling things out of the fridge. “You’d left some stuff the last time you were here so I washed them and they’re in the bathroom.”

“I don’t need a bath,” Jon said. “Couch better.”

“You haven’t washed in a more than a couple of days,” Damian intoned.

“How would you know?” Jon demanded.

“World’s Greatest Detective, remember?” Damian began taking pots and pans out of the cupboards.

“That’s your dad.”

“Second greatest then. Besides, I have a nose.”

Jon took a surreptitious sniff of himself and grimaced. He stood up from the couch grumbling, not missing the smirk on Damian’s face.

He stepped into the bathroom and got a lungful of that expensive bath oil he could sometimes smell on Damian. Not that he sniffed his friend—well not obviously but it was something that Jon was always aware of. 

He chucked his clothes and sank into the hot water, admitting that Damian always had the best ideas. He stifled a groan as the warmth seeped into his muscles, erasing the tension he felt since Tuesday after nearly failing that test.

He took a washcloth and started to scrub, making sure that he smelt proper for Mr World’s Second Greatest Detective. He should feel guilty for using his friend’s expensive products but Damian did offer and he didn’t have his own stuff. He squirted a small amount of the coconut shampoo and felt no small measure of delight that he got to smell like Damian.

Jon leaned back on the tub, his toes peeking out of the water. Damian...Damian. His thoughts always revolve around him recently. Could recall the apprehension of meeting the new Boy Wonder, son to one of his father’s oldest friends. How Damian immediately rubbed him the wrong way, how their first days of acquaintance were nothing more than fist fights and childish taunts. 

And now...now Jon wouldn’t trade him for the world. He was a very dear friend and if in the privacy of his own fantasies, Jon imagined them together as something more, it was his secret to keep.

But Jon wasn’t stupid. Didn’t even try to deny to himself when the he started to feel more than friendship towards Damian. Remembered with full clarity that sweltering afternoon at Hamilton, after they had just assisted one of the horses to give birth, how Damian had sparkled with undisguised delight at the new foal. And how despite being elbow deep in muck and blood, his green eyes had lit up and had transformed his whole face and Jon thought to himself, ‘I’m in trouble.’ Jon was fifteen and fell in love that day. 

So Jon waited. Knew that Damian had bigger things in mind than some puppy teenage romance. He was on his way to finishing his first PhD then, and didn’t need the distraction. They patrolled together, hung out when they could, and had dinner often at Damian’s new pad. 

For a while, it was enough. Jon relished those moments, appreciated with no small amount of smugness that only he had Damian this way. Not even Dick, not even Mr Wayne. Damian had other friends, yes, the Titans and other superhero colleagues. But Jon was the constant by his side, a partnership that rivalled even the famed duo of Batman and Superman. 

During battles, they had each other’s back. Enemies learned that attacking the new Blackwing made for bleeding in every orifice from fists that could destroy moons with a single punch, while there was no creature in the whole universe more vicious than an enraged Blackwing when Superboy was down. 

So maybe Jon could take the chance, could finally let Damian know of his feelings. Tonight seemed a good night as ever, when both of their defenses were down. If he said no, friendship is all he could offer Jon, then that’s fine, no matter how heartbreaking. He would take him at any way he could have him. 

But if the rejection was complete and he couldn’t have Jon around any more, then Jon wouldn’t know what he would do. Move to a new planet, perhaps. Or join the Green Lanterns. 

The dread in his stomach made an appearance and he tamped it down quickly lest he break down in Damian’s expensive bathtub. 

He didn’t stay long, knowing that Damian would need help in preparing dinner, and dried off, putting on the sleep set. Oh dear lord. Damian’s detergent. He giggled to himself. _Now_ he smelt like Damian. 

When he got out of the bathroom, Damian was busy in the kitchen stirring a pot of sauce. He had taken off his jacket at some point, rolled up his sleeves, and donned an apron. 

Jon smiled at how domestic it all looked. Yes, he was telling him tonight. 

“What are you making?” Jon asked, tying the bathrobe tighter around himself. 

“Butternut squash and ricotta lasagne, with a side salad and some garlic bread,” Damian replied. He pointed to the chopping board that held salad ingredients. “Mind chopping up the salad?”

“Not at all,” said Jon, taking his place beside Damian and picking up the knife. He started on the lettuce, cutting the leaves against the bias. 

For a while, it was peaceful and something settled in Jon while Damian started on the cheese sauce, busily whisking milk into the butter and flour mixture in the pan. They worked in tandem, Jon prepping the vegetables and Damian seasoning the marinara.

Damian held up a small spoon of the sauce to Jon. “Taste,” he ordered. 

Damian expected Jon to take the spoon from him but instead, Jon leaned in, opening his mouth while Damian held the spoon aloft. Damian’s cheeks pinked, which he hoped the other man didn’t notice. 

“That’s amazing, Dami!” Jon praised. 

Damian dipped the spoon again into the sauce, not caring about hygiene as it was the two of them eating the food anyway. He blew on the sauce to cool it down a little before tasting himself. 

“Needs sugar,” Damian said. He reached for the container of sugar and shook a small amount into his palm before stirring it in to the pot.

“Sugar?” asked Jon. He was finished with chopping and was piling all the vegetables into a large bowl. 

“Takes away the acidity of the tomatoes,” explained Damian. “Otherwise, the sauce can be too sharp.” He held the spoon again to Jon. “Try this now.”

Jon tasted and smacked his lips. “Wow, that did make a difference.”

Damian got to working on the lasagne, layering pasta, roasted butternut squash, ricotta, spinach and the sauce on a dish. He topped it off with the cheese sauce before sprinkling more cheese on the top and placing it in the oven. 

“That should be done in about 45 minutes,” Damian said. “Would you like some wine?”

Jon grinned. He’d just turned 21 a few months ago. Damian, like his father, rarely indulged, but it was his night off. 

“Just a small glass, please,” Jon said. He placed the salad in the fridge. 

“We can watch an episode of The Good Wife while the lasagne cooks,” suggested Jon as they took their seats on the couch. He reached for the remote and opened up Netflix.

“Tt,” said Damian, his hands full with a couple glasses of wine. He handed one to Jon. “I will never understand your love for that show.”

“Oi, not all of us are intellectuals that can follow Aaron Sorkin,” snarked Jon as he made himself comfortable. 

Damian sat beside Jon, taking care not to sit too close but still enough that he can feel the heat radiating from the half-Kryptonian. Jon shuffled closer until he could lean his head against Damian’s shoulder and Damian stiffened.

“This is okay, right?” Jon asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

Damian relaxed, leaning back against the cushions. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

By the time the episode finished, the timer for the lasagne had gone off as well. Damian was loathe to sit up, enjoying the moment but Jon made the decision for him. He got up, rubbed his belly and went back to the kitchen.

“I’m starved,” he declared. 

Damian followed him and put on the oven gloves. “Can you take the garlic bread out of the fridge? It can warm up in the oven while the lasagne cools a bit,” said Damian. 

By the time all the food was ready, Jon could definitely say that he was excited. Damian cooking was a rare treat. The other man could cook very well but didn’t do it often and was happy to do take outs. Alfred sometimes popped by and stocked the fridge with meals that only needed a few minutes nuking in the microwave but Damian was trying to put a stop to it (though to be quite honest, he didn’t really put up much of a fight as Pennyworth’s cooking was excellent).

“This looks so good,” said Jon as he helped himself to the lasagne. 

“I hope it tastes good too,” said Damian, but there was a note of warmth in his voice he only reserved for Jon.

Conversation was sparse as they ate, savouring the meal. Damian inquired about Jon’s final project and Jon in turn, asked about the latest smartphone WE was releasing. 

As the meal ended, both men full of good food and good wine, they both were ready to go into a food coma. With difficulty, Jon rose from his seat.

“Your turn to have a shower while I clean up,” Jon said, stacking the dishes. 

“You sure?” Damian asked, getting up as well.

Jon smiled. “I can do as much as rinse the plates and pop them in the dishwasher, you know. I’m not the one who grew up with a butler.”

Damian scoffed. “Whatever.” 

Damian showered down quickly but still enjoyed the warm water sluicing down him, washing away the grime of the day. As he finished rinsing the last of the suds out of his hair, he leaned his forehead against the warm tiles, thinking of the evening so far. 

How marvelous it felt to just have Jon in his space, bantering, sharing a meal with him, Jon’s head on his shoulder as they watched TV. 

Like a couple, he admitted to himself. Accepting that this was what he wanted, that in his quest to take care of his friend, he also entertained how it would be if they were together.

And it was incredible. And he wanted this every day.

Angrily, he shut off the water. _Useless dreams_ , he thought savagely. Jon didn’t feel the same way. He was Jon’s best friend. A comfort, a confidante, a partner, but not in the most intimate of ways Damian wished they could be. 

Resolute, he was just going to go through this evening for Jon, and then, try to move on from his stupid feelings. Maybe he can date again, find someone who can make him forget about Jon.

But as he stepped out of the bathroom, he felt his resolution weaken. Jon was cuddled up on his corner of the couch (when did he have a corner, Damian wondered), a blanket perched on his lap. He had dimmed the lights so only the TV was source for illumination, and had closed the curtains against the night sky. There was a fresh bottle of wine on the coffee table with their glasses topped up. 

“Dami! Come on, it’s Princess Bride!”

Damian sat down heavily on the couch, took his glass and swallowed the wine to get rid of the lump in his throat.

He could never move on from Jon. He was doomed to love his friend from afar it seemed.

Jon moved suddenly and without warning placed his head on Damian’s lap.

Damian startled, nearly spilling his wine.

“What are you—“

“Can I speak up for a minute, please?” mplored Jon, his eyes glued to Damian’s stomach. Surely his super hearing could feel how Damian’s heart thudded against his chest and he took a deep breath to control his body. 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Jon began softly. “You know immediately what I need before I do myself, and you just do it. I hardly have to ask you for anything but you...you just give it. And recently, I have been needing more from you yet you never wavered and I am so happy to have you as my friend.”

Jon’s voice then became so small that Damian had to strain to hear him. 

“And recently, I thought what it would be like if we were more than friends.” Jon sat up and looked at Damian in the eye. “And I like it. I like being able to come back here with you, cuddle on the couch and prepare dinner. It feels right. I...I...I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen and I know you might not feel the same way but I thought you should know because it’s been eating me up inside not letting you know and it’s—“

He was stopped in his rambling by Damian pressing a finger to his lips. Jon sat still as Damian put his glass back down on the coffee table and to his surprise, rubbed a knuckle under Jon’s eye, in the same spot were he had a small, fading bruise from last week’s encounter with Darkseid’s minions. 

“I want to be with you, too,” Damian breathed. “I was just waiting for you to notice that.”

Jon’s smile was so wide he could feel his cheeks straining. He tackled Damian to the couch, and pressed his lips reverently to Damian’s.

It was a soft, barely-there pressure of skin against skin but it held so much promise and confession that Damian couldn’t help but press back insistently, wanting more of that delicious heat. 

Jon groaned low in his throat and settled himself more comfortably on top of Damian as he took the kiss further.

It felt as if everything clicked into place for both of them as they kissed. Damian undid Jon’s robe open and skated his hands underneath the soft shirt so he could reach more skin. His hands travelled up and down Jon’s muscular back as Jon surged forward at his touch, his kisses more insistent, more wanting.

Before long, Damian had to pull away before they could take things further. He leaned his forehead against his...his beloved...and breathed deeply.

Jon tucked his face against Damian’s neck. He didn’t sound as wrecked as Damian did but there was a tremor in his frame. Damian held him tighter, brushing back hair from those sky blue eyes he loved.

“Was this...a date?” Jon asked quietly, afraid that any loud noises would break this amazing, impossible dream they were having. 

Damian chuckled. “It could be, but I think I would rather take you to a fancy place, show you off. Get the tabloids roaring.”

Jon laughed as well. “No, this is a perfect first date.”

“As you wish, beloved.”

And Damian didn’t let go of him for the rest of the night.

—-

Epilogue:

Jon moved in after he graduated, to the delight of their parents, and the consternation of Dick. Grayson insisted that his little brother was too young to be settling down but even he couldn’t deny the quiet contentment and happiness in Damian whenever he was around Jon. 

It didn’t take long for Jon to pack up in his dormitory as most of his things were at Damian’s anyway. After that night, he was even more of a fixture in the flat; space was cleared for him in the closet and drawers, and his hi-tops sat side by side expensive Italian oxfords in the hallway. Jon had gotten a job at one of the WE divisions as a junior designer in their tech department. Damian and Jon always arrived together at work before parting ways at the lobby with a small kiss, headed to their different departments at different floors of the tower. 

(They were voted cutest couple at the annual company Christmas party and Drake and Todd never lived it down.) 

One evening, Jon came home the day before Damian’s birthday with a small creature in his arms, a golden puppy called Penny he had adopted from the local shelter. 

“Honey, we’re home!” he sang, and placed the puppy down on the floor before greeting his boyfriend with a large kiss.

“You got us a dog,” said Damian, crouching down to let the puppy sniff his fingers before deeming him a safe person and allowing Damian to scoop her up. She immediately tried to lick his face and Damian chuckled, petting her.

“I thought it was the next step for us,” Jon explained, his arms going around Damian. “Besides, you’re never getting rid of me. So yes, a dog to make sure you’re never able to get away. Penny and I are a package deal, now.”

And as Damian looked at his beloved, saw the happiness and adoration coming off him in waves, with Penny making herself comfortable in his arms, he truly felt, for the first time in 5 years since living in this apartment, that he had finally settled.

Damian smiled. 

“Welcome home, beloved.”


End file.
